


It's Hard to Drown Your Demons When They Know how to Swim

by Smelly_Trash_Panda



Series: JDronica Connected One-shots [8]
Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Shooting Guns, Smoking, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-20 02:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smelly_Trash_Panda/pseuds/Smelly_Trash_Panda
Summary: Takes place a few days after Still Beautiful.JD starts to lose it, and hates himself for what he became.This is the most explicit thing that's been in this series to date, so please read with caution.There is self harm and attempted suicide, please don't read this if those are sensitive subjects for you.
Relationships: Jason "J. D." Dean & Veronica Sawyer, Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer
Series: JDronica Connected One-shots [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642942
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	It's Hard to Drown Your Demons When They Know how to Swim

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to say this again, this story includes self harm and attempted suicide. Please read with caution.

Saturday, October 27th

Everything has been going great, aside from my dad being himself. Fuck, those bruises still hurt. But today… today was something else… Even though Chandler is gone, Duke has taken over and she's even more ruthless. Jason and Peter are her Kurt and Ram, and they're somehow worse than that pair of dead jocks. Duke is a menace, she pushed McNamara to the brink of suicide! Ronnie was able to find her before it was too late, but she's hospitalized now. Drug overdose. And to rub salt into the wound, Jason and Peter were prancing around talking about "how sad it was that they didn't get to fuck her before she lost it". WHAT THE HELL! THEY'RE WORSE THAN KURT AND RAM! IF THEIR ASSHOLE PREDECESSORS DIDN'T TRULY DESERVE TO DIE, WELL, JASON AND PETER DO! Veronica and I could turn the school around, we could off Duke, Jason and Peter just like we did with Chandler, Kurt and Ram! We could make it better, we could change the world one dead asshole at a time! We could be GODS! WE COULD-

JD stopped writing, and looked at the angry frantic words sliced into the paper of his journal. "Fuck!" He yelled, tearing the page out of the book and ripping it to shreds. He got up and kicked his chair, but all that did was make his toe hurt. "Fucking hell!" He screamed, and stormed out of his room.

His dad wasn't home, so fuck it. He could do what he wanted. He grabbed his gun and slid it into the pocket of his trench coat, not bothering to make sure the safety was on. He tore through the house, knocking over everything in his reach. He stopped only to grab his dad's pack of cigarettes and lighter. Staring at the pack, he contemplated throwing them out to piss off his old man, but decided to smoke one instead. He lit the cigarette and popped in his mouth, taking a deep drag of the wretched thing. 

JD immediately spat it out, his body shaking with harsh coughs as the smoke burned his throat and filled his lungs. The cigarette had landed on the seat of his dad's favorite chair, burning a small hole in the fabric and smearing ashes everywhere. 

_ Good,  _ he thought, stomping on it to make sure it was no longer burning. He turned around and flicked on the TV, wow, perfect timing. Bud's goddamn ad was playing. JD spat on the TV before pulling out his gun and shooting it. The glass of the TV shattered and the broken device went silent. 

Feeling better, but still not satisfied, he gathered up the remaining cigarettes, the lighter and a knife from the kitchen before walking out the front door. He tossed his treasures into the small storage compartment of his motorcycle and hopped on. He rode off down the street, not bothering to follow the speed limits. His destination clear in his mind, he sped off into the night. 

The wind lashed at his face and threw his trench coat behind him, the leather flapped ominously like a pair of enormous bat wings.

Finally arriving at his destination, he hopped off the bike and gathered up his stolen items. Walking over to the chain-link fence, he shoved his items underneath it before climbing up and jumping over himself. 

With his feet steadily on the ground, and his body on the opposite side of the fence, he gathered up his items once more and wandered into the dump. He passed mountains of foul smelling garbage and discarded furniture, stopping only once he was certain he'd reached the center of the foul place.

He haphazardly tossed the knife, cigarettes and lighter to the ground before pulling out his gun and emptying it's bullets into a pile of garbage that looked a bit like a person. He imagined it was his father, or Jason, or Peter, or Duke, and for a moment, he felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. 

But it was quickly torn away by the image of Veronica's disappointed face. He screamed and threw the gun off into the dump, letting it get swallowed up by the mountains of garbage. 

"God fucking damnit!" He yelled and began stomping around, kicking everything in sight. 

"Fuck fuck FUCK!" He collapsed next to his stolen treasures and screamed at the sky, tears streaming down his face. 

"WHY DOES SHE LOVE ME? WHY!? WHY THE FUCK IS SHE TRYING TO HELP ME!? I'M INSANE!" He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, filling his lungs with smoke again. He coughed and cried and choked on tears and smoke and the pain of everything. 

"I'm fucking insane… I don't deserve her… I don't deserve to live…" He sobbed and dropped the cigarette into the dirt, snuffing it out with his hand and relishing the sting of the burn.

He rolled back the sleeves of his trench coat, exposing his arms.  _ I don't deserve to live, but I don't deserve to die either…  _

He lit a third cigarette and inhaled the smoke, feeling a sick sense of relief as it burned his throat. He then reached for the knife, not caring that it was dirty from the ground and began to dig it into his skin.

He let out a gasp, it didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, it was just, sharp. He watched the blood well up in the tear he'd made in his upper arm with twisted satisfaction. He brought the knife down again, and again, and again. He let it dance over his skin, carving rivers of red into his flesh. He heard a wild laughter ringing in his ears, and quickly realized that it was his own. He stopped laughing and choked on the smoke pooling in his lungs. The stench of iron filled his nose, and he looked down at his left arm.

It was slick with blood.

He pulled the half smoked cigarette out of his mouth and pressed it into the cuts on his arm, holding back screams as the heat burned his open wounds and mixed ash into his blood. Shaking, he lit yet another cigarette and began to work on his right arm. 

He made it into a beautiful macabre masterpiece. Blood and fire and smoke and tears filled his vision and his throat. He could hear voices off in the distance. 

His vision started to go black.

"Ah, fuck…" he said weakly. "Guess I overdid it…"

A bright light shone through the darkness falling over his eyes, blinding him.  _ Is this what Heather and Kurt and Ram saw right before they died? _

He smiled as the darkness took over his vision and plunged him into the void. 

"Goodbye…"

.

.

.

.

.

.

JD blinked open his eyes, squinting as they were assaulted with bright white light.

_ Where am I? Am I… dead?  _ The thought filled him with mixed joy and sorrow. If he was dead, then he'd atoned for his crimes and could never hurt anyone ever again. At the same time, he'd never get to see Veronica again. Never get to hear her laugh, see her smile, feel her hair tickling his nose while they cuddled. But at this point, did he even deserve that?

His eyes slowly focused on the scene around him, he was in a hospital room and Heather McNamara was in the bed across from his.

Her eyes widened when she saw that he was awake, and she quickly looked the other way, trying to pretend she hadn't been watching him.

He looked down at his heavily bandaged arms and felt a pang of guilt.  _ What have I done…? _

He was snapped out his thoughts by the sound of a door being thrown open and hitting a wall. 

In stormed a bright blue angel, tears streaming down her cheeks and her fists clenched in anger.

"What the  _ fuck  _ were you thinking!?" Shrieked Veronica. 

Both he and Heather shrunk down into their beds, trying to hide from her wrath. Martha darted into the room behind Veronica and tried to calm her down.

"Veronica, they aren't in their right minds just leave them be," she pleaded.

Veronica shook her head and tore her arm out of Martha's grasp. "You're both total idiots!" She glared at Heather, "you should never have believed a word Duke said! She's a snake and a bitch! Goddamnit Heather, you have a life! Don't throw it away!" She then turned her burning hazel eyes on him.

_ Uh oh… _

"And YOU!" She stormed over to him and lifted him up by the collar of his shirt. "You just… Fuck! Why would you do that!?" She started sobbing openly, "we promised we'd never leave each other… Why Jason… why did you do it?"

He felt tears burn the corners of his eyes. "Because I don't deserve to live," he whispered. "Veronica… I'm dangerous, no amount of therapy is going to change that. I'm a murderer, the world won't be safe until I leave it."

Despite Martha and Heather being in the room too, this conversation was just between the two of them. It was quiet, so quiet that he wondered if he was imagining her whispered words. 

"You think you're alone in this? Goddamn it Jason if I could atone for my sins with death I would, but that's not the way ro redeem yourself. If we killed ourselves, we'd only be running away from the mess we made. Chandler was an accident, but Kurt and Ram weren't. I knew those bullets were real, I knew from the start. I'm just as guilty as you."

"Veronica-"

She placed her other hand over his mouth. "The road to recovery is going to be long and hard and sometimes you're going to relapse, sometimes you're going to want to hurt people again, but what you just tried to do proves that you have a chance. If you're willing to give up your life to atone for your sins, that means that you want to change. That means that you want to get better. That means to want to right your wrongs. That means that there's good in you. We are going to get through this, you and me and Sherry and Martha and maybe even Heather Mac. And if you need medications, then we'll get you medications." She paused and drew in a shaky breath. "And if you ever try to commit suicide again, I'll kill you myself." 

He managed to crack a small smile, "wouldn't that defeat the purpose?"

She laughed, desperate and shaky, but a laugh nonetheless. She lowered him back down onto bed, gave him a quick kiss, and turned to Heather, raising her voice back to a normal speaking level. "I'll make you the same promise I just made my idiot boyfriend. Try to commit suicide again and I'll kill you myself."

Heather gave her a shy smile, "okay."

Martha looked around awkwardly, "is everyone done yelling? Can we all just hug or something?"

Heather gave Martha a gentle smile, "sure." She hopped off the bed and tugged Martha over to him and Veronica. 

He felt a smile tug at his lips as the three girls wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders.

Veronica looked at him hopefully, "JD?"

"Fuck it," he sat up and smiled stupidly as he tossed his bandaged arms around his girlfriend and her, now also his, friends. 

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to you for reading this, and huge thanks to Alexandra_dAutriche for continuously giving me advice. My stories grow better thanks to your input.   
> They've got some really good fics of their own, so go check out their works!


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